The Shang-Hai Irregulars
by Servant of Fire
Summary: Major Verse 5 ,can be read alone. Late one night ,while Sherlock is still recovering from the Akhlys serum, Sarah comes to the flat, terrified because Shan's people are back, and tried to abduct her. Sherlock begins to investigate, and soon discovers the reason for their return: The Shang Hai Irregulars, kids who have escaped Black Lotus. DISCONTINUED.
1. Prolouge

**Prolouge~**

_The air is singing with the dust, and the cries of the children that they have broken free from this slave hold far from the sky. They are running behind them now, their bamboo canes flashing like swords in the Eastern Sun._

_John holds his gun arm steady by cupping his elbow with his free hand. His jaw is set. As Shan(here alive, after supposedly being assassinated by Moriarty's people ) stands smiling, knowing she is beaten, and having no remorse._

_Sherlock turns the bike to its side, causing the sand to lick up like serpents, and leave a cloud that will obscure the path Shan's bodyguards are taking to them. The bike spins in a perfect figure 8, not by accident, but by the guiding hands and all-observant eyes of the now legendary Sherlock Holmes. John can't help but smile grimly, never mind that this is going to end with fire and blood._

_They park the bike in the middle of the mist. Sherlock leaps from it, and brings forth his bow, putting a raven arrow to the string, all in one motion. John is two steps behind him, the gun in now a more steady hand, but knowing that soon it will avail him no more, and he and Sherlock will have to result to the "baritsu" the martial art style that Mycroft had them train rigorously in._

_Sherlock calls to the children ,mocking the enemy, in Mandarin Chinese, words to this effect:_

_"Hen jiandan, haizimen. Tamen shi ren zhi chanquing!" _(_which roughly translated means, "Easy children...They are only human!)_

_" Lian shenxian duhui haipa zhe yitian...(Even the gods will fear this day)" Shan answered him out of the dust, " Dang women si shi zhangzhen zai diqiu shang! (when we the Dead make war on earth)..." she began to cackle truly mad, and John sighed, remembering this crazy old hag now, from the night she kidnapped him and Sarah Sawyer, on that one date they went on that ended so very badly._

_"Wo buzaihu shenme "shen" de xiangfa. Youren gaosu wo zhiyou yige. Ruguo yinci rang shang tian feng zuo chu lisuonengji de mingyun yinding shi wo de duizhang. ( I don't care what the "gods" think. I was told there is but One. If so let Heaven seal the day, and make me Captain of whatever Fate must be).." said Sherlock, and he smiled suddenly,_

_" Dan ni you liyou danxin wo. Wo zhidao ni zuole suenme. ( But you have reason to fear me. I know what you've done)." he gasped, with a steel-hard laugh._

_Shan gave a shout, and the battle began._

_John let a shaky breath as he cast his gun aside, and drew out the knives he kept in two holsters on his belt. He didn't care about the wars the Black Lotus had almost begun, or all the crimes they had swept under the magic carpet now. He was only here to protect Sherlock and these kids..._


	2. Chapter 1: Voices in the Night

**Chapter 1: Voices In The Night~**

** For My Freedom Song. With love :)**

** The martial arts form "baritsu" that is used throughout this story, was actually an early form of English free-style fighting, borrowing from several different Japanese styles ,as well as English boxing, that Mr. Conan-Doyle (to whom these characters rightfully belong, and their modern adaptions belong to Mr. Steven Moffat, and Mr. Mark Gatiss) modified the name of and had actually written as being the fighting style that Sherlock used to win the fight with Moriarty in the original story that was ****adapted into the "Reichenbach Fall".Because it's a free-style fighting art, I'm going to adapt it ever so slightly, changing the style throughout.**

* * *

><p>Sherlock is deep asleep. John is laying next to him on the settee, letting his head rest on his chest, for the two-fold purpose of a) monitoring his pulse and b) not having to try and move him so he could watch telly. And ,to be honest, he rather liked being so close to him again, after so long of his being dead and gone. Never mind what it looked like, Sherlock was supposedly dead anyway, so it's not like people were going to know about him being around anymore to talk about the two of them. John drew an easy breath, and flipped through the channels. He couldn't really hear anything but the steady "thump, thump ,thump"of Sherlock's heart , the tv set being just about muted, but he still liked to have it on for its light, and the water colored pictures swimming before his groggy eyes.<p>

It was 3 in the morning. He counted out the hours ,the minutes, by Sherlock's steady heart. " _Thump, thump, thump,_"..." So much had happened..." _Thump, thump, thump,"... _How does he even begin to process it all?

It is two weeks after their adventure in New York City, playing the complicated game that Charles Magnusson, Mary Morstan, and Irene Adler had fabricated together, where Sherlock was hooked to a very dangerous poison to slow down his deductive powers by all sorts of psychedelic episodes, and then was pitted against the entire New York mob, as well as Mary and her extreme terrorist plan, and Magnusson, who was really using Mary as the puppet for his own extreme terrorist plan. Irene Adler had been there as a sort of tie breaker, and had ultimately killed Mary in a sort of vendetta move on her part. John was finding this really hard to process, as the master-assassin used to be his army nurse girlfriend ,that he had almost married once upon a time...

So much that had happened in the last few months was almost impossible to wrap his head around. It had all started with learning that Sherlock was alive again. I say again,because when he had jumped from St. Bart's rooftop, he actually had died, and had come to in a body bag by one of the most bazaar cases of Lazarus syndrome in medical history, 34 hours after attempts at resuscitation had been stopped. However it had happened, John didn't know, and didn't care, his prayer for a miracle had been answered! Sherlock was alive, and alive to stop Sebastian Moran, and during the same case prove that Major Sholto was innocent in the incident that lead to casualties of his new recruits. This had lead up to Sholto moving into 221 C, as their self appointed, eternally grateful body-guard.

The case that saved Sholto's name, also ending with him moving in, had also unfrozen John's PTSD traumatized mind from an almost decade long episode of psychogenic amnesia, where he had wiped from his memory the fact that he had actually met Sherlock in army academy, and that he and Sherlock had served together in Afghanistan, with John being an army-medic, and Sherlock being a consulting detective for the military police. So,now he was also trying to process all those years he had forgotten, had wiped from his mind when he thought Sherlock had been killed during a mission to solve war-crimes, that had landed him in an Afghani cartel, where he was force hooked to a nearly fatal mixture of cocaine ,heroin, and all other sorts of heavy IV drugs. He had to process this on top of learning that Sherlock had jumped from Bart's to save his life from Moriarty's snipers, had _died _for him, and had been tortured ,brutally and incessantly, by members of Moriaty's network, willingly taking the abuse so as not to reveal John's identity to them, to keep him safe lest they tried to harm him to get what they wanted.

John simply couldn't wrap his head around that. Almost wouldn't have believed the story, had Sherlock not been constrained to tell him, when they were in Finland. That case had been harrowing, and John remembered that during it Sherlock had been tortured, and had taken it so easily, that he was forced to believe all the things he had told him had really happened.

Shortly after they had finished the case in Finland, they got involved in a case to bust up a ring of modern-day rum-runners, and had been abducted and taken to a chemical weapon's testing sight in the Caribbean, known as "Baskerville Island". It was during that case that John learned the man he had called father since his childhood, the cruel and abusive man who had disowned him, was actually his uncle who had murdered his father. As punishment for solving this case, John's uncle , Solomon Watson,had sent John and Sherlock into the Carnival of Death that was on the island. Sherlock and John were both fatally electrocuted, and lay dead in the middle of a Caribbean island jungle for 20 minutes, before being sent back by "the Teacher" ,the Divine Spirit that Sherlock had met the first time he was dead.

So ,while John was trying to process having his best friend back, that had been dead for a little over a year, having learned said best friend had died and had been tortured to save him the entire time he was gone, having watched this friend being tortured on a psycho case, and take it with as much ease as somebody takes getting a haircut, and then process being abducted by pirates, solving the case of his family's domestic tragedy, being electrocuted to death with said best friend, and having a near death experience with him, then,after all of this!, along comes Mary Morstan with a cat glove full of Akhlys serum, and a suicide mission that results in watching Sherlock go utterly mental, totally wipe out the Crips and Bloods in New York City, and ends with John doing a hand stand off the top of the Empire State Building, and Sherlock catching him mid-air-and his old girlfriend being murdered by her girlfriend!_

There was a probably a good reason John couldn't sleep tonight...No, he was pretty sure it wasn't the pudding Mrs. Hudson had accidentally roasted in the stove, and then poured some of Sherlock's chemical solutions on, although that probably didn't help.

He lay here counting Sherlock's heart beats. They were surprisingly strong, after all the stressful things that had been done to it, (like the fatal mixing of IV drugs, for example. Or death by falling...or Akhlys. Not to mention all the absolutely horrific torment it had endured...) "Thump, Thump, Thump..." steady drilling against his bones, running like an engine, just like his mind does when he's awake. Not threatening to stop. Not going anywhere...

John dropped the remote on the floor, and reached, and took Sherlock's wrist in his hand. Now he could feel the rise and fall of his pulse. A little tapping against John's fingers, letting him know that he was here...wasn't going anywhere now. Had the warmth of living blood in him. Chest was rising and falling in steady sleeping breath, rising up and falling down and making John feel like his head was resting on the ocean.

John smiled, and settled into him, letting go of his wrist, and letting his hand dangle above the floor.

It might take forever to process the last few months. He might never be able to come to terms with it all. But it was all ok. All of that pain and chaos was worth this one moment here, lying down beside Sherlock, listening to his heart, now that he was sleeping for once (still recovering from the serum).

He was alive. Everything was fine, if only because he really was alive. And seemed to be on the mend.

After a long moment, John's eyes falling closed, as heavy as prison doors, drifting off to sleep for a little while, he felt Sherlock's gentle hand in his hair, and heard the detective let a shuddering breath, as he woke up out of a dead sleep.

"Mmm...you ok?" John asked, stirring, trying to make himself awake enough to sit up.

Sherlock's fingers fidgeted in John's hair, making it to stand up like amber waves of grain, like golden rows of wheat in the harvest fields. It tickled, and John smiled, wondering absently what had woken him up, this being nearly impossible to do when he actually did fall asleep.

"I hear...a voice. A woman's voice."

"JOHN!" shouted Sarah Sawyer from the sidewalk. "Please, JOHN! Help! They're back! That maniac Chinese woman is back!"

"Oh my God, it's Sarah! Sarah from the doctor's office, and she..."

John took one bound off the settee, and Sherlock was only a bound behind him, and they sprinted downstairs like two young deer that were twins.


	3. Chapter 2 Chance Encounters

**Chapter 2: Chance Encounters With Dead Men~**

Sarah was at the door before Sherlock and John even made it down the stairs. Which is saying quite a bit, considering the speed at which they descended.

John reached the door first. Sherlock had slowed down a bit, and came to a complete halt at the landing. John didn't think about it until after it was over, but Sherlock knew that Sarah was not going to take the sight of him very easily...

"Sarah! Oh my God, are you ok? Here,come in! Breathe,... you're safe here!"John reassured, voice a steady drone, like sleeping bees in the heat of summer.

"John! That woman! The one, that...the date we went on, the...well...really fun...date that...ended rather shockingly, SHE'S BACK! She sent her people for me, in the practice, when I was closing up! I only escaped because I hid in the mail shoot_don't even ask how I fit in there! Said something about me hiding children in the office, and I don't know what she was talking about, and her people tore up everything, and GOD I wish Sherlock was still alive! He would,_ AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKK!"

Sarah looked up, and let out an absolutely horrific wail, one that started deep in her bones, and grew to a high pitch, like when the tea kettle blows its top.

For there stood Sherlock Holmes, curls tousled, and dressing gown on inside out, having thrown it on in his haste...

There stood Sherlock Holmes, very much alive, after being dead for what may as well have been a very long time.

Sarah stopped screaming after a moment, and pressed a hand against her chest, as if trying to tell her heart to be quiet. Her mouth gaped, and her lips had turned blue. Her eyes were wide as an owl's, and her hair stood on little frazzly ends.

John laid a hand on her shoulder, and smiled apologetically at Sherlock.

"It's ok...He's...actually here, you're not hallucinating. I thought I was dreaming the first time I saw him again too...And his brother even gave me a head's up first."

Sarah shook her head. "But...He died...A long time ago?" Sarah asked John, in a strange tone, one brow curling. Not daring to speak to Sherlock, thinking he might still be a phantom of her fear sick mind's wish for the help that only Sherlock Holmes can give.

Sherlock had an apologetic look on his face, like he really didn't mean to be alive. A sort of half-smile, but more of a grimace, and his brows were furrowed in a way that looked painful, as if he was terribly baffled, and his eyes were somewhat wide at the same time and crossing just a bit. His hands were thrust deeply in his pockets, and he kept tilting his head towards the other parts of the house, as if he wished that he was a ghost truly, and could simply disappear.

"Yes...He did. But I prayed for a miracle, and now he's here again. Here to help you. It's a lot to explain, but we can talk about it over tea." John sighed, eternally grateful for this one grace.

A light flicked on and Mrs. Hudson and the Major appeared.

"Oh, hello Sarah! "Mrs. Hudson said, and then cutting Sherlock a look, cried, "Sherlock!...Isn't it rather nasty of you to scare Sarah like that?! You really should be nicer to John's girlfriends... What have you got to say for yourself?"

Sherlock looked at Sarah then, lips pressing tightly together, still perplexed utterly, brows flying to the top of his face in a clueless expression...

"Uuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhh...Hello?"

"Oh, I see!" The Major piped up. "The sight of Sherlock in his pajamas was a bit too much for you? Most people don't recognize him without that silly hat that they make him wear for the paper. Or _used _to make him wear, seeing as now he's dead...err...and well they aren't allowed to write about him anymore..."

"Well, no, it wasn't his pajamas?" Sarah asked, a brow curling confused, still staring wide eyed at Sherlock.

"Well, just be glad he is wearing pajamas. John told me that he went to Buckingham Palace once draped only in a sheet!"

"Oh, Major! You'll give the poor dear horrors! Don't tell her that!" Mrs. Hudson cried.

By now John took pity on Sherlock, who was standing utterly defenseless, in a sort of stupor, just as startled to be found alive, as Sarah was to find him living.

"She didn't know that he was alive again! I _I'm not allowed to tell anyone, remember?" John gasped, waving his hands in irritation.

"OH!" The Major and Mrs. Hudson gasped in unison.

"Well, don't feel bad ,dear, I screamed my head off the first time I saw him again too! Here, I'll make us a cuppa!" Mrs. Hudson waved it away dismissively,and turned to the kitchen, the Major following her like a faithful old dog.

"Here again...Right when I need you." Sarah gasped, with a delighted smile. "A miracle...if I ever saw one."

"A miracle alright. The best miracle I ever got. "John laughed, clapping a hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Should I go...change?" Sherlock asked, pointing with his thumb up the stairs, still a little flummoxed.

"No, you're alright...Really...I wouldn't care if you were dressed like the Easter Bunny; that's how glad I am to see you right now!" Sarah laughed, and followed Sherlock and John into the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 3: Miracles For the Asking

**Chapter 3: Miracles For The Asking~**

A little while later , all 5 of them were sitting around the fireplace upstairs ,with the tea Mrs. Hudson had poured up,and for a little while no one said anything.

Sarah took a long sip, and then let out a shaky breath, and gathered her courage to ask her first question.

Sherlock sat across from her in his chair, just as he had always sat so very long ago, when he lived here on Baker Street, and desperate people came to receive miracles just for the asking. Tonight she had done the very same thing, hopeless now that the greatest detective who had ever breathed should breathe no more. She didn't expect an answer to her riddle, only thought that maybe, just maybe..., the hollow soul of Doctor Watson still haunted sadly in this place, and she could go to him for protection. But here was Sherlock, legs folded up under him,perched like an eagle ready to swoop, hands folded in a sort of mantis style ,studying her intensely, John sitting in his chair across from him, living here yet indeed, but not haunting, face glowing once again, with youth and joy and health returned.

Oh yes a miracle, outright, and alarming, shocking evidence that there was still a God in the Heavens, and that all could be well in the World.

Sarah had just one thing left she needed to know before they could go on figuring out her problem.

"...John...said...that you..you were alive..."again"...But you were never dead,really, were you, or else how are you alive?"

Sherlock smiled mysteriously ,and lowered his hands.

"No, I WAS dead. As dead as the definition allows. For 1 day and 10 hours, laying in a body bag in the St. Bart's mortuary."

Sarah's whole body went cold. Surely, he was making this up. HOW could he have been dead, and suddenly not?

"But...then...in probably the most shocking case of Lazarus Syndrome medically documented Molly Hooper found me there ...just sleeping. Snoring and inhaling the bag too, so I'm told."

Lazarus Syndrome. Sarah had heard about that in medical school. It had always freaked her royally out, and fascinated her all at once.

Oh yes. If she were ever to meet anyone who actually could manage to awake inexplicably from death an entire day and a half after the fact, it would be Sherlock Holmes...

"So...you WERE dead?"

"Yup."

Sarah's breath caught, and suddenly she blurted,

"Why did you do it?"

All the others got uncomfortably quiet. THAT had never been brought up again, not in this house, not since he was miraculously returned to them.

"Do what?"

"You ...you know...Why would you...? I mean I heard them say you were a fraud, and all that rot, but...you're the man who saved my life...I could never believe it."

Deeper silence. John looked away. Sarah noticed him chewing his lip fiercely,but her attention was zeroed in on Sherlock. On his reason.

"You...were going to be in trouble, probably. But...disgrace...prison...any of that...would be better than...what you did..."

Sherlock's lips pressed firmly together,

"John's life was at risk if I refused to act out my own execution, and that's all I am at liberty to tell you."

Sarah swallowed a huge lump of air.

Oh , of course. Stupid. If Sherlock Holmes was ever compelled to die voluntarily...die FOR anyone, of course it would have been John Watson.

"Oh..." she whispered, not having any reply to that.

"What...what was it like?" she asked, completely incapable of letting the questions flow. His eyes went to the floor.

"Like falling asleep..."

Falling...

She tried to shut the image out. But she had seen it on the evening news. The man who had saved her... falling to his death ,right from the white washed halls of grace...

John had seen it in person. Had never been the same again. Had quit his job not too long after, and disappeared, and for all the world knew he too was dead and gone. Some even ventured so far as to think that maybe Sherlock killed him.

But in the end no...No he had leaped right out of heaven, and shattered all over the pavement like an hourglass full of all his years that would never be lived...to prolong the life of the beloved young doctor gone missing in action.

And they were both here tonight, as though it had all been just some disturbing dream, alive and well and at her service.

Sherlock had studied her all the while they had talked.

"Shan has returned for you because you are _unbeknownst to you_ harboring fugitives of hers. Now this is actually fascinating , as I heard that Shan had been eliminated. But yes, she is a leader in the Black Lotus, and your practice is full of children ages 12 to 18, who are enslaved to her services,and have escaped to the only place in England they feel they will be safe. The medical practice that John Watson used to work for...John Watson being a direct link to Sherlock Holmes...They knew that they were in the right place, but also that you would be somewhat endangered by their rather complex plan to attract my attention . You were John's boss, and a former girlfriend, and there were rumors about the events that lead up to their leader's elimination. They would have known about you, would have known that I had saved your life, that Shan wouldn't want you to talk, would want to eliminate you for helping them, lest you should go back to me, because you trusted me to help you like before. No, London may still believe I sleep, but the criminal world is very much aware of my presence in their midst; she would have known I was awake and walking...These children are hiding in your practice because they WANT to be found,in a complex plot, allowed you to be attacked, and then helped you escape, (modifying your mail chute just a bit) so that you would contact me. Wanted me to find them, with your help. And now I have gotten the message. So what are we waiting for!" he leaped to his feet.

"How..how could you know all of that?" Sarah gasped, as John helped her to her feet.

"Oh, it's mindlessly simple! There's a strand of hair tangled in your own, about 3 quarters of a centimeter long, the texture and color that of an Asian female around 14 years old. There's cigarette ashes on the very toe of your shoes,- I can tell by the smell of it it's a blend they only sell in China_"

"HOW do you know that?Sherlock, we agreed cold turkey!" John interrupted,

"Yes, well, I was extremely anxious, and you thought I wasn't even alive anymore, one or two cigarettes may have ,regrettably, slipped through my fingers and lungs during my exile! But yes, if there are cigarettes, then there is most likely a child in the building old enough to smoke, so somewhere around 18? Then there was the pencil shavings smudged on your sleeve of your work clothes, which you would only wear at the place where you are employed, implying that most stains and what not come from contact with your office. So then, a child hiding in your practice, using the tables meant for patients and office space, to do her school studies. Clearly not currently enrolled in school, _the pencil wood is over 4 years old. So yes, I can conclude that there are children hiding, most likely with out your knowledge, very skillfully in your practice, and since you have mentioned the reappearance of Shan and her hires, it is only logical to assume that they are fugitives in her employ! Half a moment, I need to get dressed! And then someone_John or Major one, needs to phone Lestrade, and I'll need Anderson for his forensics, should the little dearies not be home, and Donovan too if she'd like...I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

He leaped up, hair standing on end he was so excited, and bounded for his room to go change into something a bit more professional.

John turned to Sarah and smiled.

"Oh my God...so he really is back then! I thought I was dreaming till he started doing his trick again!" she whispered, suddenly excited herself.

John shook his head, fascinated by it all.

"Yes. He's back, alright!"


	5. Chapter 4: And the Children Pray

**Chapter 4: And the Children of the Night Pray~**

Sarah held her breath, almost terrified to be coming back here. Almost. Except, they were with her.

She never thought she'd be able to say that again. But one on either side of her, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, the greatest partners in crime solving that ever drew the air, were her personal escort tonight, back through the cold and smokey streets of sleeping London, where a light rain wept, to her little practice.

Major Sholto had joined their company, and had brought a pistol. This somehow made their business seem somewhat official, and Sarah smiled. This was exciting! She didn't realize that she actually would miss this. One night of this she had sworn was enough for a life time. But ,no, once you've tasted the thrill of the chase, you never really do recover.

Behind the Major was Sally Donovan, and Phillip Anderson. John hadn't had anything good to say about either of these two after the dust had settled,and the papers had less to say. But apparently all was bygones now, because they were here tonight, eager enough to help, that Sherlock could have commanded them to fetch and they'd obey.

Last of all, and only half awake, was Greg Lestrade. Sarah remembered him from his frequent swinging by the office to tell John there was yet another case, and that Sherlock was already on the hunt, so if he wanted to come along, he'd better come with him.

Yes, once you took the bloodhound off his leash, it was a next to impossible thing to tether him again.

Before anyone knew what he was doing, he was on his knees by a gutter, head cocked ,seeing something that they didn't. He swiped his fingers along the grate, and his gloves came back with a bright red dye, like what they use for fire-cracker papers. His face lit up with a look of horror that the others didn't understand, and he ran to the back door of the office, where the supply truck would stop, so that they could unload the delivery of bandages and cleaning chemicals and what nots.

He knocked a strange syllable of knocks on that door, and waited, looking skyward as if praying.

A young voice called out to him in Chinese, and he answered in the same.

John stopped in his tracks. Sherlock knew how to speak Chinese?

Now the look of horror was making sense to John. Maybe not everyone else, but John always caught on rather quickly when it came to Sherlock.

This business overlapped with some of that business he had to attend to when he was away.

The door opened, and a little girl, about 14 years old, stood there in a snow-white faux fur sweater, and a pair of red jeans. In her hands was paper with the same dye that Sherlock found on the gutter.

"So...you have solved my puzzle, Mr. Holmes?" she asked with a smile.

Sherlock reached, and took the paper, folding it origami style until it was in the shape of a lotus. Then he unfolded it, and turned it into a swan.

"You prayed for a miracle...And I was sent to help you."

The girl's eyes were very sad.

"Like you always do..." she laughed, near tears. Then she looked up.

"Forgive me, Doctor Sawyer, and Doctor Watson, too, of course. This place was the only sanctuary I trusted. Mr. Holmes' residence was too obvious, and the police station was too easily disclosed."

"And you couldn't have that could you, Lee Mudan? Not with Shan forcing you and your family into a suicide bombing assignment..." Sherlock breathed.

John felt his breath catch, and his hand went to his mouth. First, how could Sherlock have figured that out from red dye on a gutter? And then of course there were children being forced into suicide terrorism.

The little girl, Lee Mudan ,as Sherlock called her, leaned forward.

"Shan is alive, because her decoy intercepted her assassination, and gave her life for her."

Sherlock nodded, and took her by her shoulders, " Are you and Shang alright?"

The girl swallowed. None of the others knew how, and John could only guess, but Sherlock and this little girl knew each other. Quite well in fact. She said something to him in Chinese, and he swallowed a stone like lump in his throat, and answered in the same.

Then Lee Mudan turned towards the office, and called, in English,

"Brothers and sisters, our Teacher has come for us! Just like I told you he would!"

From out of the shadows then crept several boys and girls, some older some younger.

"SHERLOCK!" a boy, about 12, shouted, and ran and propelled himself into Sherlock's arms.

All the others watching were stunned into silence.

"Oh my God!" Sherlock gasped, holding the boy tight. "I never thought I'd see you again!" he laughed, smiling one of his rare smiles.

"You saved my life...And I never got to thank you!" the boy was crying.

Sherlock shook his head, "It's my job. Don't cry." he sat him on his feet.

"You all know that breaking and entering is illegal ,don't you? Just this once we'll let it slide." Sherlock laughed, as glad to see these children, as they were to see him.

The little children smiled bashfully, the older ones were laughing ,overjoyed to see him. Some were in tears.

"Sherlock!" said an older boy, "You survived!"

"Of course I did!" Sherlock scoffed, with a smile, as the boy came and shook his hand.

Sherlock shook his head, "Now it all makes so much more sense why Shan would come back to London, after the first time I ratted her out of here. Not working alone this time, I see. Tried to put you lot up to it, did she now? Well she should have known that the Shang Hai Irregulars were much more clever than that! No students of mine could be so dense!"

Sherlock turned, meeting John's eyes, and smiled brightly.

"Let me introduce you to my students. Children, this is the man who saved my life. Remember...I told you all about him when we were hostages..."

Some of the little ones ran and hugged John like they knew him.

"Oh! Uh..hello!" John laughed, confused.

"You saved him, and so he saved us! Thank you!" they gasped, hands folding as if in prayer.

"Yes. Yes, I did." Sherlock replied, face suddenly very grave. "And I'm about to do it again. But let's go inside. Shan's spies will be crawling all over London just like bed bugs if she has any inclination that I might be helping you..."

And with that Sherlock lead the way inside the practice, his mysterious class and his puzzled friends trailing behind him.


	6. Chapter 5: Their Hope To Come

**Chapter 5: Their Hope To Come~**

A little while later the lot of them were sitting around the table in the doctor's and nurses' lunch room, Sherlock in the center, the children sitting as close to him as possible. A smaller girl, the youngest of them all, probably about 7 years old climbed on his lap, and laid on his chest, reaching up and playing with his hair, calling him something over and over in Chinese that was clearly a term of endearment.

"Why ,hello, love." Sherlock laughed,as she scrambled up onto his knees. "Been quite a while, hasn't it?"

John was dumbstruck as he sat down. Sherlock Holmes, holding a child, and tolerating it? Actually welcoming it?

This was a story they'd very much like to hear.

"What does it mean?" John asked Lee Mudan.

"Pardon, Doctor?" the girl asked, raising a brow.

"What is she saying?"

"Oh, it's Sherlock's nickname,that we gave him the night he saved our lives. It means, " Evening Star".

" _Huanghun zhi xing!" _giggled the little girl, or something that sounded like the italicized to John, and she buried her face in Sherlock's chest.

"Sounds like quite a story. Before you lot came along children and Sherlock didn't get along all that well." Sally said sheepishly, drawing closer.

Lee Mudan smiled, "Adversity brings people together."

John laughed. How true that was!

"Why don't you tell the story? You will most likely recall it more clearly than I will..."Sherlock said to Lee Mudan, gathering the child a little closer.

The boy who had thrown himself into Sherlock's arms, Lee Mudan's brother, Shang, stepped forward.

"Please, before she begins...how did_ you _ survive?" he asked, looking almost frightened.

Sherlock looked at John, "Motivation..." he whispered.

"What do you mean?" asked Shang.

Sherlock leaned forward, "It was you ,actually. You didn't think what you had to say really mattered, but it did. Do you remember the last thing you told me? Before I gave myself up to them?"

The boy's eyes grew wide, "We do anything...for our family." the boy repeated, and his eyes were threatening to fill with tears again.

Sherlock nodded gravely, eyes galaxies away...

"I had a family I was still protecting. I lived because I absolutely must. It was...my duty."

John's jaw dropped, and he came and sat down next to Sherlock.

"So...what happened?!" he asked, having a feeling whatever Sherlock had done was probably ,once again, also for his protection.

Sherlock closed his eyes, and Lee Mudan drew a sharp breath.

"The last time they tried the bosses actually did succeed in forcing us into a suicide bombing mission, and Sherlock solved his way to us, and defused the intricate explosive device...run through the belly of a train filled with fireworks for the New Years Festival..."

_Lee Mudan's eyes are closed. The bosses have put her directly across the aisle from her baby brother Shang who is only 10 almost 11, and she doesn't want to watch him die._

_There's a loud "beep" from the device hooked to her chest, and she knows she has 3 minutes left till the whole train goes up in smoke._

_All around her, her friends, children she grew up with in the survival regime of life for a street child, are also hooked into these vests that have replaced the passenger car on this New Year's festival delivery train. Some of them are crying. A few of them pray. One of them cries out in Chinese words to this effect:_

_"Yuangliang wo , Mama! Wo bu hui huo...baochi wo de nuoyan!" (_which roughly translated means, "Forgive me, Mama! I'm not going to live... to keep my promise!"

_Right next to Lee Mudan is a little girl named Qiji. She asks herself how a kid that's only 6 gets forced into working for the bosses anyway? And now she is here, wailing at the top of her lungs ,because she doesn't really understand why she has to die._

_And then there's a voice as deep as thunder striking in the middle of the train, that hushes Quiji and stops the beats ,like the drumbeat hooves of horses, in Lee Mudan's heart._

_"Zhukou! Ting! Dajia Ting! Wo lai zhengjiu ni!" (Shut up! Listen! Everybody listen! I've come to save you!")_

_Lee Mudan's eyes fly open, and she sees Sherlock Holmes for the very first time._

_She would have run from him and hidden if she'd met him on the street._

_But the first time she lays eyes on the brooding figure in the long black coat, blue scarf fluttering in a vent from the top of the train, silver green eyes glittering like swords in the lights on the bomb timers, raven curls tousled in storm like frustration, their situation dire, his hand clamped firmly over Qiji's screaming lips..she is brought to tears._

_For all she knows this terrible spirit has become her rescue! Her very hope as dark as a creature drawn from the veins of the Night. She is eternally grateful!_

_Lee Mudan is grateful she can speak English, because she can understand the man's mutterings. He is talking very fast, eyes flashing about, _

_"That's the trick of it, the servants can never truly mirror their master, none of this is original, it's exactly the same as the well-house in Serbia!" Sherlock gasps, fiddling with the wires around Qiji's waist._

_"Huanghun zhi xing!" she cried, reaching and touching his face. She begins to chant that, having burst forth like Noah's flood in tears, smiling with all her teeth at the man who has come to save her._

_The Evening Star, come to save them from the soon coming Night that is death. They don't know anything else about this man, but that's all that they need to know right now._

_Sherlock pulls the little girl out of her device. _

_"One at a time won't work. There's always a kill-switch. And she was sitting on it. It's too bloody easy, John! "_

_Lee Mudan doesn't know who the ravingly frightened and utterly lonely man is talking to, but she feels his presence here as well, as if the name mentioned is the name of the guardian angel of her guardian angel. She feels safe in the middle of her tragic end. Surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. She is going to taste salvation. Mercy has come._

_Sherlock hits the switch,and the bomb timer lights flash out._

_He turns and looks Lee Mudan in the tear flooding eyes. She nods fervently, ready to obey whatever he commands,ready to follow him wherever he leads. He has saved her._

_"Bangzhu tamen! Kuia dian! Tamen liale..." ( Help them! Hurry! They are coming...)_

_She gets up ,finding her chains are broken and takes a single leap for Shang, who is sobbing without being able to speak, staring at Sherlock as he spins about muttering in English, making rapid deductions about how they should escape._

_"Kuia dian! Gen wo lai!" (Hurry! Follow me!) he shouts at the top of his striking voice, and they are on their feet running, as fast as they possibly can, some of them reaching out and grasping the long dark coat to keep up with the spirit as he has them away into the New Years Eve that falls swiftly to its knees upon Shang Hai..._


	7. Chapter 6: Their Light To Guide Them

** Chapter 6: Their Light to Guide Them~**

There was a long silence in the practice. All eyes were on Sherlock, who was staring at the floor, little Qiji having dozed off on his chest, finally at peace now that her Teacher was here to protect her.

John swallowed a huge lump in his throat, to think of all that Sherlock and these kids had survived. The lump sank like a stone to the bottom of a stream in his chest. Being told that Sherlock had talked to him in his moments of terror ,confusion, and loneliness made his soul ache. It's something that Sherlock would never have told him, and something that he really would never had known, but it had touched these children deeply. John made such an impression on everyone that knew him.

"He took us out of the train, and raced with us into the night. And that was a long, and terrifying night, and amazing too, as the fireworks ignited the sky." Lee Mudan was saying, drawing John out of the pain in his heart, and into the swirling smoke of the past.

"He knew that we were not going to be safe where we were. Once the bomb did not explode during customary celebrations,the bosses would know they had been sabotaged, and would hunt us. They would either kill us, or force us back into the trade, to finish the job that we were forced into and failed miserably the first time. If they found Sherlock, they would punish him severely; we tried not to think about it...

And so he whisked us away to a quiet place,...To the Yu Gardens, and hid us in the confines of the Nine Lion Study. There we remained for over a month and a half, hiding from the bosses, whose act of terrorism was something they must do to fulfill the last wishes of the Master whose name no one ever says. Enlisted us in the business of searching them out, so he could turn them over to his masters. That is why we call him " Teacher".

There was a day when the bosses had discovered Sherlock's presence in the Garden. He knew that he couldn't protect us from them forever, so he arranged for his elder brother and other of his own masters to evacuate us from Shang Hai. The evacuation didn't go as planned, the agents were delayed by the bosses, and our enemy had found us. They were calling out in the night, mentioning that they had a name. That they knew about a Doctor Watson. They threatened to go after this man, if Sherlock didn't give us up to them...

But then he did something that I will never forget. He didn't choose his family or his country over us. In the end he chose us both...and it saved us all."

_Lee Mudan watched Sherlock as he stood on the porch of the Nine Lion Study, overlooking the pool that teemed at its feet, as lights flashed in the distance, and voices spoke into hidden intercoms in the night, threatening death to people who were leagues away from where their wars wore on._

_The wind tossed Sherlock's coat up like a dark wave of the sea, and she saw his knuckles whiten as he clutched the rail of the porch._

_Shang stood barefoot in the moonlight, looking into the distance, watching his conflicted Teacher, as he made his choice._

_"They've found us..." Shang whispered, voice laden with cares an 11-year-old boy shouldn't carry._

_Sherlock turned and his face was very grave. His hunters had come for him. Lee Mudan felt her stomach tighten, as she weighed the odds. Of course, they wanted him so much more...wanted to be the ones to have the honor of ending the life of Moriarty's destroyer._

_"I need you to help me with something, Shang..." Sherlock said voice low, and foreboding._

_Shang drew closer, heart clenching like a fist. Lee Mudan drew a heavy breath, and closed her eyes, praying, her heart echoing off the darkness, begging that this was not the end, that he wouldn't be killed. Please,don't let him..._

_"I'm going to see my Teacher, very soon..."_

_Shang was shaking his head fiercely, "But He doesn't live on earth!" the boy whispered, understanding._

_Sherlock nodded gravely, turning back to the lights, and the shouts, of the demons come to drag him back to hell._

_"It's alright...My brother's agents are coming for you. But I won't be able to lead you to them myself, like we talked about. Sorry, but you understand, I have to...let them take me. My brothers...their lives...depend on it."_

_"And you are telling me this, because you want me to lead them to the people?" asked Shang, suddenly shaking._

_"You are clever and strong for a boy your age. You can do it..."_

_"I don't think so. I'm only 10. I'm not really clever, and I don't count."_

_Sherlock laughed, " I have a friend who thinks the same thing about herself, and she ends up being of the uttermost importance to me when I'm in a tight spot. You're going to do just fine..."_

_"Why not my sister?" the boy asked, voice shaking._

_Sherlock came and stood over him, placing a hand on his shoulder._

_"Because she's too busy protecting you." he said, with a wink, and they both started laughing._

_"We...will do ...anything..for our family." Shang thought aloud, almost in tears now, as the lights got brighter, as the men came closer._

_"Yes...Yes we will...And now..."Sherlock looked back...as the lights got intensely bright,_

_"You must do what you can for yours, and I must do what I can for mine."_

_"Will I ever see you again?"_

_"Most likely not..."_

_Shang swallowed, trying to look brave._

_"It's time for you to go..." Sherlock whispered._

_Shang reached and hugged Sherlock hard, crying now, unable to stop himself._

_Sherlock held him close, his face pained. It is utterly lonely to walk to one's death by one's self in the dead of night whilst the world is sleeping._

_"Goodbye, Shang."_

_"Goodbye, Sherlock."_

_The boy let go, face filled with tears, that Sherlock thumbed away, giving him one last sly smile. And then the boy turned, and did not look back, rousing all his sleeping friends, and leading them out the other side of the studies entrance._

_Lee Mudan was drug away between two older boys, weeping bitterly, as she heard Sherlock shout out to the enemy, and spread his arms as if about to fall, giving himself up to them._

_The lights all targeted him, and they told him to leap into the pool, and swim to them._

_He obeyed._

_Like a swan from the skies, and diving into the wind and shadows , and as suddenly as he had appeared into their lives, he was gone..._

The story ended abruptly, with John standing to his feet, gaping in horror, face wan. He shook his head, and stormed from the room. Sherlock carefully got up, handing the little girl to her older sister, and followed him.

Sarah bit her knuckles, herself moved to tears...


	8. Chapter 7: Safely Home

**Chapter 7: Safely Home ~**

John ran until he was in what was once his own office, and stopped, panting.

He could hear Sherlock's footsteps behind him, and he closed his eyes.

Sherlock came to a stand still in the doorway, watching him reverently, waiting for him to speak first.

John clutched his mouth in a shaking hand, feeling like he was going to be sick. Apparently there was a LOT that Sherlock hadn't told him about his time away...What's worse is that he thought he had.

So, then, if Sherlock hadn't told him about Shang Hai , then, it's most likely because he didn't remember what happened to him well enough to tell him. And if that was the case, then, whatever it was, was absolutely horrific.

And it had been to keep his name a safely home secret.

John turned, as slow as the shadow on the sundial shifts, and unclenched the hand he had twisted around his lips. Stood staring, eyes as wide as waking owls, trying to process the tide of thoughts. Looking for adequate words...

Sherlock had thrust his hands deeply in his pockets, and was staring back, expressionless. Trying himself to process the flood of memories, to come up with an appropriate way to explain.

"You gave yourself up to the Black Lotus..." John said, softly, with a shaky smile.

Sherlock swallowed, "It was the only way to guarantee the safety of the children, of my family at home, and the integrity of national security all at once. I told them nothing..."

He swallowed, and came a little closer, "Listen, John. I'm home now...There's no reason to be upset ,anymore..."

John drew close to him, shaking his head.

"What did they do to you?"

Sherlock's eyes lit up like the flames of ancient tragedy were stirred inside him ,and with a gasp he reached out, and clutched John's shoulders, to steady himself.

_He is only aware of one thing...Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of snakes._

_Hybrid snakes, their poison crossing each others poison. A concoction more horrific in hallucination than any other drug he had been forcibly addicted to, and more painful physically than all of the other torments he had experienced combined._

_Passing out of the pit of a hundred ,hundred thousand snakes, to another filled with millions of little spiders. Hybrid spiders. Generated by science. And science's great mistake...Their poison crossing with the snake poison..._

_Seizures. Body over heating. The ability for the poison to "read the memory" of other poisons that had damaged his body before. Horrific repeats of the tortures that other parties had inflicted._

_Shattering the lab of his tormentors, rage, a caged animal, broken glass._

_Underwater._

_Repeat..._

* * *

><p>Sherlock wasn't aware that he couldn't breathe. That he had bowed his head on John's chest. That John, had pulled him close, counting the beats of their hearts against each other.<p>

Sherlock isn't aware of what he has just confessed aloud.

" Moriarty's last wish, for the traveling circus that the Black Lotus disguises itself with...you know...the one you took Sarah to see that night that...your date...and it went horribly wrong..."

"I couldn't forget, Sherlock..."John whispered, holding him closer, willing him to breathe.

"He called it the Seven Wonders of the World...They were to devise and act out seven ultimate acts of terrorism...The first was the one that I sabotaged, the one where they tried to blow their own child slaves to hell from the center of the New Year's train...The next ones...they were experimenting on me...and..."

He is shaking now...John holds him as close as he can, leans against his desk.

" Whatever it takes..if it means crawling all the way to hell and shaking hands with Jim Moriarty,...I have to bury this demon ,John. I have to bury this demon before it drinks the veins of humanity dry..."

John's hand found its way to Sherlock's hair, and he tangled his fingers in it, trying somehow to calm him down. Wondered if there were any sedatives and syringes in this room still? He'd had a few before...for the victims from their cases actually. If Sherlock's heart didn't slow down...he might have to sedate him.

"Ok. We'll do whatever we've got to do...But you're not fighting any demons until your heart rate slows down..."

"Yes, the doctor has made a very valid point ,Sherlock..." said Mycroft from the doorway.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and John helped him to stand up straighter, wrapping an arm around him to keep him steady. Sherlock's brows furrowed, and he blinked, eyes adjusting to the light of the electric torch Mycroft was shining right in his face.

"It's bad enough that you're here?" John asked, face twisting.

"Oh, yes, really it's nice to see the both of you as well." Mycroft smiled cheekily, drawing into the room,and closing the door.

" You knew...the children were here?" Sherlock asked, shielding his eyes from the torch with one shaking hand.

"Well, not until you walked out your door. Once you left Baker Street, Anthea had immediate surveillance on you. You seemed somewhat distraught, why we could only guess. When you found the red dye from the New Year's firecracker paper that Lee Mudan had taken as a token of that terrible night, I knew..."

There was silence, and John swallowed, sitting on the desk, pulling Sherlock up to where he was sitting beside him.

"Since this is a grave matter of national security, I'm going to have to bring you back in to work for the services tonight, Sherlock..."Mycroft mused.

"Surely Lestrade can spare me just until I keep London from "blowing over"..."

John shivered. "We'd best get to it ,then, asap! " he gasped, clapping a hand on his thigh, swinging his legs, impatient for orders.

"I agree. Lestrade can't tie his own shoe laces without me..." Sherlock breathed, blinking.

"Well,that was modest, really ,Sherlock, you should take more credit for your work!...No, I mean, if London's about to blow its top, there's no time to waste ,is there?" John asked, lips forming a straight line.

"If the two of you are going hand to hand on the streets of Shang Hai with this sort of foe, then I will have to bring you in for a few weeks of training first."

"WEEKS?!" they both cried, in horror.

"Would you rather have a few days of training, and then have to learn on the job?" Mycroft growled, annoyed.

"Frankly...yes!" Sherlock gasped.

John shrugged, "I might not know karate, but I've got crazy down well enough. So yeah, a day or two is plenty for me..."

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose until it was white and raised. There might even be a slight bruise there later.

"Fair enough..." he gasped, and then whipped out his omnipresent mobile.

"Anthea, inform the instructor that our "baritsu" program will need to be compacted into a 3 day ritual." he said into the receiver.

There was a muffled reply, and then Mycroft hung up.

"Well then, it looks like you boys are headed back to the battlefield..." he said, with a grim smile, helping them stand up.

"What about those kids?" John asked, head spinning.

Mycroft thought a moment. "They already seem safe enough here. But Sarah might no be. I think I shall appoint the protection of the Little Shang Hai Clinic and Day Care to Major Sholto, Doctor Sawyer, and Molly Hooper."

"Molly?" Sherlock asked, a brow raised, wondering why Mycroft would appoint a pathologist to babysit a whole flock of refugee teenagers?

"Well, of course Molly, Sherlock, don't be so dense! She couldn't be safe on her own if the entire rest of your extremely small social circle is in danger. And the Major will work with no one else. Besides, someone will have to keep an eye on London's lousy police force for the time to be. The Detective Inspector's girl friend will be accountability enough..."

And so it was settled. Their next destination was the dojo...


	9. Chapter 8: Promises To Return

**Chapter 8: Promises To Return~ **

A little while later the children stood lined up like a proper class in front of Sherlock, and Molly Hooper stood beside him, chewing her lip, a bit confused, still in her lab coat ,having come here straight from the Saint Bart's mortuary.

"Ms. Hooper is going to help look after you while I'm gone." Sherlock said in English.

Suddenly Qiji stepped forward, face twisted ,somewhat confused.

" You...you come back, yes?"

Sherlock knelt in front of her, not sure what to say. He held his breath, trying to smile at her.

"This time...bad men...not get...you...You...this time...come back."

The little girl gave up trying to speak English then, and took him by both sides of his face,

" _Huanghun zhi xing_... _Ni buneng si...Qing. Dui wo lai shuo...Qing...Buyao si..." (_Evening Star...You can't die. Please. For me...please. Don't die).

Lee Mudan broke into tears, to everyone's confusion, and Sherlock was fighting tears of his own.

" _Wo daying ni..."_ (I promise you...) he began hoarsely." _Wo hui changshi...(_ I will try)..._Wo hui nuli huo xiaqu...( _I will try to survive...)..."

The little girl's face twisted in a defiant pout.

"No. You live. You WILL live. _Nin huilaile! ( _You are coming back)! "

What else was Sherlock to say? The others were holding their breath, trying not to cry themselves. The thought of his death was never far from their minds either. But out of the mouth of babes, as they say, she had put their darkest thoughts to words, and made him swear to her...

"I will..." he swore, with a bright smile, and she smiled back, relieved. Too innocent yet to realize that there was no way he could guarantee his promise would be kept.

The girl hugged him with all her strength, and he held her for a moment, eyes closed, praying that he'd not disappoint her. Hoping she'd forgive him ,maybe, if he did. Hoping they would all forgive him, forgiveness not being something he had known very well. She giggled, and lifted his head again, with a huge smile on her face.

" I wait for you, _Huanghun zhi xing. _I wait..."

John held his breath,

" _Please , God!.." _he prayed silently, " _Please for the little girl's sake, and for mine...Let him live...don't let him be hurt this time..You can take me instead..."_

Sherlock would never let that happen ,John knew. But still he prayed with all his heart, that this time it would all end well...

Molly smiled at Qiji. " It's...ok. He's...always getting into trouble..and... oh!,...what I mean is well...he might always be in trouble, but he's always getting out of it again. He'll be alright...And you will be too. I'm going to help the Major look after you...and Doctor Sawyer's going to help you be invisible... And at night the policemen will help too..."

Qiji didn't understand everything Molly was saying, but she immediately knew she could trust the awkward little woman doctor. She went to her, and laid her head on her stomach, wrapping her arms around her, pig tails sagging as if they weighed a thousand pounds.

Molly gave Sherlock a look.

_Whatever you promised this little girl...be sure you do it...ok? _her eyes said.

Sherlock smiled reassuringly, a smile that said, " _Of course!" H_e even laughed a soft little scoffing laugh.

Greg knelt next to Molly and the little girl. "Hey, love, it's all fine. I'm a police officer...Do you understand?"

The little girl looked up, and touched his badge, nodding.

Lee Mudan came up to Sherlock then.

"Go, and God help you, Mr. Holmes. I will watch after them."

"That's my girl." Sherlock laughed, winking at her.

He turned and about slammed into Mycroft, who was waiting to whisk him and John away. He looked absolutely stunned that Sherlock was getting along with children, even having known their back story already.

Mycroft's eyes met Major Sholto's eyes, and the Major saluted.

"Whatever this business is really about, and why ever it came to London, I don't know for certain. But what I do know for absolutely certain, Mr. Holmes, is that you can guarantee there will be NO collateral damage on my watch! Carry on..."

Mycroft smiled, and slipped the arms that were already accidentally around Sherlock more purposefully around him, and turned about leading him towards the door.

John looked back at Qiji and smiled.

"I'll look after him." he promised, with a kind smile. The little girl laughed, hopes restored.


	10. Chapter 9:With Greater Wisdom

** Chapter 9: With Greater Wisdom~**

"So...why...bartitsu?" John asked slowly, eyeing the dojo curiously.

It was early the next morning. They had been flown to Edinburgh following their last conversation with their friends, and were currently in the safe house/ dojo/ 3 day debriefing program hastily set up to prepare them for their entry into criminal war zone Shang Hai."

Sherlock yawned boredly, teeth sticking out like fangs, hands thrust deep in the pockets of his long coat. Mycroft swallowed, patiently.

"We had to pick something that your opponents wouldn't be familiar with. Bartitsu was originally developed in England in the late 19th century."

"Oh...Ok, so, what do we do?"

Sherlock was suddenly pealing out of his coat, and rolling up his sleeves.

Mycroft drew a chalk line across the floor in between the two men, and John rolled his eyes, having expected something a bit more official than this. He should have known better.

"The three main points of bartitsu are these, little brothers mine. First, disturb your opponents equilibrium. Try it out on Sherlock, John, being tall, he's relatively equipped for a fall."

Everyone within ear shot froze then, as Mycroft's words rang hollowly home. Mycroft himself stood aghast at what these words truly meant.

John stood wan faced, and bottled emotions ,like anger and pain, sorrow and fear suddenly spurred him on his heel, to facing Sherlock.

And he blindly spun to knock him down,and suddenly Sherlock twisted and John was on his nose.

He coughed, "So, let me guess...you've already had some experience with this...bartitsu...or whatever?"

Sherlock smiled, "Remember the little plaque that's been hanging over my bed for ages?"

John thought back until he remember the little plaque in question. Contrary to popular belief, John didn't actually spend a whole lot of time in Sherlock's bedroom. Occasionally he was in there looking for stolen socks or missing keys, but that was all.

"Oh...right. It had the rules for a kind of martial arts on it?"

"It's actually a Kodokan judo black belt certificate." Sherlock replied, with a smug smirk.

John stood shakily up, and looked at Mycroft accusingly.

"Like I'd send my own little brother traipsing after a criminal network all over the globe without having guaranteed he was proficient in some sort of self-defense!" Mycroft gasped, himself defensive.

"So, this training is for me then?" John asked, skeptically.

"No,actually. Bartitsu is a free-fighting style. We're taking the judo I was taught ( I mean really John, I know I may look like a willow wisp to you, but how do you suppose I've survived this long if I didn't know how to fight?) and your inclination to soldiering, and combining it into something we can use together. Two heads being better than one. Proceeding with greater wisdom this time."

"Karate meets crazy...and you get...what exactly?" John asked, attacking Sherlock eagerly now.

Mycroft leaned back, smiling at them both.

"A dance, it seems. You're dancing together;be sure to step in time!"

Indeed ,it became a dance of sorts. For hours that wore into days. For 3 days, the two of them, pitted against each other, and plastic dummies, learning to fight together, as if they were fighting against themselves.

"The idea is surprise! Always make like you are about to go for each others throats, and then, proceed,_wise as serpents gentlemen!" Mycroft coached from the sidelines (sitting in a plastic unfolding lawn chair, with a glass of some kind of fruity cocktail Anthea had given him, treating this like some kind of miniature holiday.

"I say we put him out on the dance floor!"John growled, and Sherlock laughed around the plastic tooth-guard he was slipping into his mouth.

Somewhere near the end of the second day, Mycroft started treating it like a contest.

"ELEMENT OF SURPRISE! THEN BACK TO BACK! USE THE OPPONENT'S WEIGHT, AND ANATOMICAL POSITIONING AGAINST HIM!"

Sherlock and John did a sort of acrobatic move mid-air, where they struck palms, and kicked out backwards, and spun, arms linking, and doing a four-legged sweep, that knocked 15 or 16 plastic dummies up into the air.

They both looked up, trying to bat their hair out of their eyes, sweating and panting, to see Mycroft holding up a sign that said PERFECT 10, in his fancy Queen of England penmanship.

"Really?" Sherlock growled.

"Oh, so it's a Game now?" John asked, slipping the tooth guard back in.

At the end of the third day the two of them were doing cartwheels, and dribbling themselves hand over hand, and tagging each other by striking palms, like a ball and jacks game, sprinting about in a leap-frog, kick and punch sort of motion that left about 30 plastic dummies headless.

They looked up, to see the entire dojo holding up perfect 10's. Anthea had a foam finger, that said, "WE'RE NUMBER ONE!" loudly across it.

"Whew, bravo!" she wailed, whistling.

"Congratulations, little brothers mine. You might actually survive Shang Hai. Or at least secure for yourselves a place in the Black Lotus circus should your mission fail."

"Thanks ALOT for the vote of confidence, Mycroft!" John howled.

Sherlock just shrugged, ready to have it started now.


	11. Chapter 10:And Deeper Faith

** Chapter 10: And Deeper Faith~**

They touched down in Pudong International Airport along with the other civilian flights the next morning, and were promptly abandoned by Mycroft's agents there in the swirl and head spinning sickness of a metropolis.

And there was no city like Shanghai. John's eyes had gone wide at lights, at all of the food, at the faces. And he was the unobservant one...

They wandered for hours before either of them spoke.

John was the first to break the silence.

"So...what are we doing?"

" Tracing the Seven Wonders concept back to the source. Severing the head from our nuclear serpent before the tail of it sweeps England from the Universe. And other likewise important things..." Sherlock replied, dryly.

"Yes, I know all of that. But I mean what are we ,as of this very moment, doing?"

Sherlock stopped short, as if he didn't know.

"You don't remember where you are, do you?"

Sherlock closed his eyes, and breathed a deep sigh.

"The last time...was...uhmm... difficult. Things of greater importance deleted things like...roadsigns...common attractions..."

Sherlock was surprised to feel John's hand gently press in between his shoulder blades.

"Sherlock..."

He said his name gently, like he was calling him from somewhere very far away.

"Mmm?" Sherlock asked ,somewhat bewildered.

" Last time was too much for one human being to bear on their own. This time though...you aren't alone. So, let me make a suggestion, then. Let's take care of the bare necessities first; food, drink, somewhere to sleep, _a loo for convenience, and if we're lucky a shower would be marvelous...And then take the rest on faith and really \good deductions, ok?...No, I can't say it's not the end of the world, because technically it IS. But whether the world is ending or not, you are only one man, and you can't carry the whole thing on just your shoulders. So, let me help carry it,...and you just keep your eyes open..."

Sherlock smiled one of his "The Game is afoot" lopsided grins that looked so smug John wanted to punch him, but was so endearing that he wanted to hug him for it too.

"Ok." he shrugged, and then, his eyes zeroed in on something.

John turned just in time to see the ancient numerical system from their last case with Black Lotus, displaying the numbers "666" on a Chinese lantern float by.

"The numerical symbol for the devil. The devil being their boss; it's a warning sign for us directly from the top. Ohoh, this case, John!"

"You...uhmmm...you do realize that this case forebodes nuclear Apocalypse ,don't you?"

"I know, that's what makes it so much fun!"

John stared at him like he'd just asked him to marry him. Very much confused...

"Oh...ok...well if you like nuclear Armageddon and that sort of thing...then...mmm...yeah...this is gonna be a blast!"

"Don't make puns , John." Sherlock groaned.

The two of them couldn't help but roll with laughter then.

"Do you think we should go that direction, look for more?"John asked, warily.

"...That's all that they wanted us to see. There won't be anymore. Not there anyway. This gives us something we already know; that we're under observation. It came straight from the top, so knock knock who's there? _Shan. Yes, she's come back to haunt us, and is flashing her calling card on the streets... But she sends it on a lantern, why a lantern, why not an actual card? So then, it's not the number that's the code at all, no the lantern, John! The lantern is the message!"

"Huh...And what does it say?"

"The kind of lantern it was. It was a sky lantern; it was floating! A Kongming lantern is a symbol of established festivities...But we're not really close to any of the particularly important Chinese holidays; what are they celebrating?"

Sherlock spins in a circle, and then it hits him. Hard.

"Oh."

"Sorry?"

"Moriarty...3 nights from now will be the anniversary of his birthday. The Network used to celebrate it annually by having a particularly brutal human sacrifice arranged for his amusement. Or rather a series of them, and he would rate the one that was by far the greatest attraction...

They mean to couple the pledge they made to him with this established birthday tradition, to come up with the most spectacular human sacrifice of all...Which is why they need something to sacrifice...which is why they want their child slaves back. Which is why we have exactly 3 days to solve this case..."

John drew a heavy breath...

"Best...get to it then."

Sherlock turned to him, face suddenly horrified, and he seized John by both shoulders.

"Wh-what? What is it?"

"It's like when you poke a hole in a bag of seeds...only one or two slip through at first...The children...the ones that escaped to give us warning in England; they are only a handful they have stored for this cause...Of course, stupid!, a mere handful of kids strapped to a train explosion; Moriarty would have laughed in their faces! More...LOADS more, John... We have to find them... We have to find them before..."

His eyes were wide and void of life then.

John laid a hand on his shoulder one more time.

"We will...I have the uttermost faith in you..."

Sherlock looked up at him, as if suddenly empowered like never before by his confidence.

"The Shanghai Disney resort!"

"What?"

" What better way to lure in droves of bored street children, for the purpose of one simultaneous child sacrifice, than to grant them (illegal) access to an under construction amusement park?!"

John nodded, "I suppose that means we're also going to be storming...err...breaking and entering Mickey's castle to investigate?"

Sherlock nodded, already scanning the sidewalk.

"It's not breaking and entering if we "work" there. Hard hats!"

John understood his random outburst immediately, and set off after him...

"Going to Mickey's castle but first we have to play dress up...Yes...you are such a child!"


	12. Chapter 11: And Ever Increasing Hope

**Chapter 11: And With Ever Increasing Hope~**

They had found the essentials and the necessary costumes all in the same place.

"It's amazing that you even have lived to your mid 30's..." John was laughing, at the huge risk they had taken coming here, as Sherlock broke into the back coat closet of the Black Lotus' travelling circus' head quarters. It was Shanghai's version of the Lucky Cat in London, and there was a street vendor's restaurant on the sidewalk leading up to it. All a covert operation for their wicked plans, the most recent being the mass-murder of hosts of street children.

Sherlock froze, careful not to slam a drawer filled with costumes. He was trying to find the perfect costume for sneaking into the under construction Shanghai Disneyland Resort.

John suddenly realized the full meaning of what he had said, if only in jest. Sherlock actually HADN'T lived to his mid 30's,if one wanted to be technical.

But the days of his death were over now. And now, hope was rising in him like eagle's take to the sky, on renewed wings.

Because he had just found the one piece to the puzzle that he had needed, and he had found it when he wasn't looking for it.

"It's actually miraculous; the very miracle you prayed for, in fact. It seems that the heavens smile on you, John. Your every wish is your command,..."

He ducked his head under a red curtain, and John followed him through it.

To Shan's safe house, a room in the back of the Shanghai Lucky Cat location, where she had been living ever since Moriarty had ordered the hit for her, and that she had hidden in whilst her bodyguard took the fall for her.

Complete with a massive shower, a small kitchen, a huge bed, and a writing desk that had a computer , a few photo albums, and several USB drives laid out on it. Around the bed were also hanging loads of little pictures, scenes, children, tourists...

"The hotel,the bank, the restaurant all in one place." Sherlock purred with laughter. Then he threw two costumes, one his size, one more John sized, that would be perfect attire for two computer wizards/ electronics, and pyrotechnics specialists to wear on a massive construction site.

"I'm not...following,...you?"

"Oh come, you see it, just you don't observe it ,as per usual! This is Shan's safe house, and also where she has been doing all of her transactions. Now ,does she keep her financial records on hand,as well? No, even though this is her "impregnable fortress" that would be too great a risk. She keeps her records encoded in photographs. That's what's on the drive. And now we have a motive for a mass murder."

He wakes the computer from its sleep mode, and plugs in one of the USB drives he has selected at random, to reveal photos of random children.

"Disguised as a professional photographer...oh this is marvellous, true criminal genius ,the like I haven't seen in ages, John!"

He turns, glowing, but John stands there absolutely mortified.

"Who...who is the little boy, do you...do you care to explain?"

Sherlock swallowed, realizing why the doctor would be so upset.

" One of her bank books..."

John swallows..."What?"

Sherlock swallows, " All slaves of the Black Lotus bear a mark, like the one Soo Lin Yao had, you remember?"

"Yes?"

"She encrypted her financial records into the tatoo, via a complicated numerical code, and a GPS locating computer chip, concealed in the ink and skin..."

"And how in God's name...did you figure that out?"

Sherlock smiled, more eager than usual to show off his skill, and John suddenly realized ,and felt his spirits rising, that Sherlock was so eager, because his discovery would guarantee Shan's plan was foiled.

"Because of the way she put her signature in the image."

Sherlock pointed to the very bottom of the screen.

The lower right hand corner was signed with the ancient number system from their last case involving Black Lotus, a series of what looked like random numbers.

"The sequence of numbers ,if you were to replace them with the English character for that letter, or the Chinese character for a word ,in that sequence , spells out in a number _for_a_letter code : Black Lotus Tong, and then describes the tong. Its transactions, its rules... How do I know this? If you look, at her desk, at her notes, they are written in English. Her newspaper,is written in English. Her desktop settings are in English : hence it is logical to assume that the encryption is an English to Chinese, Chinese to English based code. I observe from the photographs on her wall, and from the other images on her files..."

He points to the pictures on the walls, and then flips through the photos on her computer, John's amazement increasing in great increments per second:

"That she never signs her photographs with the exact same signature. If I examine them more closely, the signature always appears the same on the outside edges, a 1, and a 7 on the end, but she conceals a code in the center. It's a string of computer code, binary numbers, in the surface text. If you translate those numbers to the code, in English character to number sequence, the numbers are 6, 9,6,20,8,1,14,4,21,8,9,18,4 ; it spells out the name of a bank, Fifth and Third. The name of the bank is encoded in English, the lingua franca of modern trade, to ensure that her clients will be able to decipher it. Now, for more personal directives; for her people in the field. The numbers also reference Chinese characters, and since it is more of a hieroglyphic alphabet than a numerical individual character one, I can assume she has used a specific book "line of a page, word of a page" type code, such as we have encountered before. I can assume she would keep the book on hand then for quick reference..." He lifts a nearby book then, a copy in Chinese of the works of Confuscius.

"See, this is the book they used, and she has the lines of reference clearly marked, I just have to read by the numbers in this code. The characters from this book that she cross referenced with the same numbers from the code she used to encrypt the name of the bank this electronic funds transfer went to. In Chinese these characters make the name " Hao Ling", and a province, this one says, Beijing. So then I can conclude from the signature that she used to sign this photograph that this particular line of binary code, went to a Fifth and Third Bank, and that this little girl, is "Hao Ling" of Beijing, and that her Black Lotus tong tattoo is encrypted with all the necessary specific information for this transaction, not to mention a digital bar code and a computer chip that any location with wi-fi will pick up to a smart phone device, thus making her global position readily available at all times. Don't you see!_"

"The plan she has devised was to ensure that these transactions were never traced back to her. All of these children are her bodyguards. When there is a miscommunication , a problem, they will track the source code that she has given, back to these children. The names, the locations of these children...it's a wild goose chase, John, meant to throw her rivals off her scent..."

John gaped, "So, what happens to these kids when they trace the code back to them?"

Sherlock bowed his head, "Collateral damage...just another piece to knock off the chess board, on the way to the Queen. A fool-proof set of pieces to guarantee that the game never ends, that there is never a checkmate. Except now she wants to wipe the board completely clean, wants to remove all of her pieces, and take herself completely out of the Game. Somehow she has gotten in way too deep...which is why she is rounding up all these children in the photographs...Which is why it is simply miraculous that we have their images; we can put them in the system immediately, have our people on the hunt to locate them. Of course they're not all in Shanghai; this murder is going to be a massive undertaking, like organizing a world-wide gala or something. We have time, in fact one risky move like kipping in the she wolf's den, and we are actually ahead of the Game. We have their pictures, we can have them zeroed in on and located with these computer chips concealed in the tattoos on their heels;we can use these built-in GPS' systems against their initial purpose. We can get these children, and the transaction information, and so end the criminal organization of Black Lotus in one fell swoop! It's absolute genius! We simply put all the information in this room into the system, and then when the sun comes up tomorrow be at the Disneyland resort construction site to scope out, and divert the act of terrorism planned there ,using her readily available Shanghai street children."

John swallowed, "Ok, so I understand how you got all that about the code...I think. But the computer chip bit, where did that come from?"

"The scrapbook kit's ink stamp, that is next to the photo album on your left."

John noticed it for the first time. Also saw a shard of clear plastic, almost perfectly concealed in a dark ink.

"That is exactly the ink they inject into tattoos, and that is a computer chip almost concealed in it. That ,coupled with these strings of computer code embedded into images of children, and our current pending murder situation made it all a rather blatantly obvious observation..."

"Obvious...to you!" John laughed, shaking his head.

He shook his head, and clutched his mouth, utterly blown away. Sherlock Holmes had just sabotaged the murders of countless innocent children "Shanghai"ed quite literally into the plots of their cruel masters, and was by every sense people count it, a hero to China and the world.

And all he could say was, "It's obvious..."

"You are absolutely amazing..." John laughed, and Sherlock smiled, puzzled but flattered all at once.

"And you are absolutely fortunate, my friend. You get the shower you wanted, and it looks like Shan uses men's shampoo so you don't have to smell like a fairy for the rest of the next day. I can also observe from her kitchen that there is plenty of food for tonight. We might not utilize the bed though, seeing as we have a long night of scanning images and sending them into the system so Vauxhall Cross can be on the search. If you need to though, you can sleep, but I shall be wide awake!"

He spun on his heel, hands clasped together ,eager as a child on Christmas morning. And John chuckled,

"Awake, and alive..." he said softly, turning to the shower.

"What happens when Shan comes back, and finds us in her bed, eating up all her food, and using up all the hot water?"

"Oh, you needn't worry yourself, I can observe from the emptiness of her panty drawer that she's gone to her boyfriends..."

"Oh my God, that is an image I did not ...ok, Sherlock...ok..."

With a huff ,John turned on his heel and was in Shan's shower room.

"How in God's name...did I find you, Sherlock Holmes?" he laughed, turning the water on full blast.

It was the one mystery the two of them would never solve. But he was here again, and alive. Thank God, alive...


End file.
